The Black Stream
by Sunlit Rain
Summary: The tale of several beings who enter a dark rift connecting our realm to Middle Earth. This is primarily an OC story, with cameos by Tolkien characters.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: thanks goes to Bella for the beta-reading. 

Disclaimer: I do not own anything the great Tolkien wrote(obviously).

The times of old were long past. The Third Age, the fading time of the Elves, was finally drawing to a close. With the most dire hour at hand,the One Ring was cast into the chasms of Mount Doom. At the precise moment the Ring was enveloped in the flaming depths, the power no longer contained by it created an invisible shockwave of energy. In the same instant, the other nineteen rings were alsorendered powerless. The resulting energy release of immense proportions caused rupturing to occur in the very fabric of space and time itself. The power then inverted, rushing towards the place in which it was first harnessed. It would have brought destruction down upon Middle Earth, into the Elvish havens and the White City. However, the Valar stepped in and absorbed the greater amount of the energy. What they could not absorb they focused towards the rifts, causing the very power that had pierced the folds of the universe to heal the damage.

While most of the ruptures healed swiftly, two lingered. They were the result of the most powerful rings, portals connecting their realm and ours. One was of the Elven rings. Located in a thick grove of trees near Mithlond, the nature of this portal was as an open door; one could enter the other place from either side, and return just as easily. In the instant between realms, it appeared as a White Bridge, shining and benevolent. This rift was entered only once, by an aspiring author who came upon it while hiking through a dense forest near Oxford, England. After some months sojourn the writer left, and the portal healed a few weeks later.

The other portal was of the One Ring. The nature of this rupture was as a one-way door on either side. In other words, one could travel through it to the other realm, but once one was there, any knowledge of it's location with intent of returning disappeared from memory. The image of this portal was that of a Black Stream, fetid and malicious.

This is the tale of the beings whose fate became intertwined with this dark rift......


	2. Into the shadow

Disclaimer: I don't own the setting of Middle Earth or anything associated it that was created by Tolkien. I do own Cassy, Megan, Nerhuine, Earel, Eric, Nauren, and the thief. 

Middle Earth, Fourth Age:Ten Years After the War of the Ring

Dusk was soon to come. The sun was setting on the horizon, a beautiful halo of colors suffusing the sky. West of Belfalas, a white ship sailed onward. It's elven passengers and crew were out on deck, lively conversation mixed with silent contemplation of the lovely display. They did not notice when a young maiden slipped away, her destination the edge of the ship.

As she walked up to the waist high wall that encompassed the deck (for even sure-footed elves may fall prey to the winds of the sea), the girl glanced around warily. Satisfied that no had observed her, she climbed onto the narrow top, holding the skirt of her traveling dress with one hand. Knelt down almost double, the maiden gripped the ledge tightly in her hands, and lowered herself onto a wooden plank a length long that jutted outfrom the side of the ship.

Once there, she sighed with relief and sat down on the plank, blithely unaware of the height she was suspended from. Dark blonde hair flew about her as she gazed at the sea, rolling gently beneath her bare feet. _Ah, a much better way to view the ocean,_ she silentlyapproved. The maiden leaned back against the vessel, her eyes distant asshe slid into daydreams.

"Earel!" A voice called from somewhere above."Earel Cuilenis, where are you?"

The maiden now known as Earel Cuilenis snapped out of her reverie. She automatically identified the voice. _So, _she thought, sighing. _He has discovered my absence. _Earel sat up straight.

"I am here, Nerhuine," she answered.

Looking up, Earel saw a male elf staring down at her, clad in drab clothing suitable for journeys. Matching blue-grey eyes met: his radiating disapproval, hers flickering with defiance. He broke the silence.

"Sister, what in all of Arda are you doing down there?" Nerhuine asked, his voice laden with annoyance.

"Only seeking refuge from you, my easily-roused brother," she returned mockingly. "Alas, it seems that you find my presence so desirable that I'm not allowed even a moment of peace."

Rolling his eyes in response to her jibe, he continued, "Earel, you must return to the ship. One of the mariners have sighted a storm ahead. Danger awaits you if you choose to linger here." Nerhuine leaned over the wall and offered her his hand in assistance. She glared at it.

"Nerhuine, in case you have forgotten, I am no child of few seasons," she said scathingly. "I am perfectly capable of ascending to the ship on my own. Besides, how can they speak of danger? The weather is-"

Abruptly the plank beneath her jerked, throwing Earel against the exterior of the ship. Her eyes widened as, for the first time, she noticed the changes around her. The calm ocean was now rough andlarge waves buffeted the vessel. The clear blue sky was now crowded with dark, ominous clouds, clashing with lightning and thunder.

Fear glittered in both their eyes. Quickly Earel stood, wincing as she fought for balance in the suddenly fierce winds. Then, themaiden flexed up on the tips of her toes, trying to grasp either the ledge or her brother's hand. The ledge was reached first, and she concentrated every fiber of her being on upward locomotion. With Nerhuine reaching down, together they managed to slowly pull her upward. Earel was almost there, when a huge wave crashed over the wall. He lost his grip on her; shefell head-first onto the plank, losing consciousness on impact.

"Earel!" Nerhuine shouted desperately.

Swiftly he climbed over the wall and began lowering himself down to where she lay. He knelt down and carefully picked her up. Suddenly the vessel tipped sideways, sending both Elves into the dark maelstrom of the sea. Nerhuine struggled against the waves, but his refusal to let go of his sister hindered his own attempts at staying afloat. As water slowly filled their lungs, his final image was of a black stream, dragging the siblings into its abysmal depths.

_

* * *

_

Somewhere Off the Coast of New England: 1999 A. D.

"C'mon, Eric!"

Eric Lausinn looked up absently from his laptop. Shoving messy green hair out of his eyes, he gazed around the bunk, wondering for a moment where he was. Flashes of memory began to surface in his mind. A boat, he was on a fishing boat. In the middle of the Atlantic. Not for the first time, he wondered why the heck he had ever agreed to this little excursion.

"Eric? Hello! Is anyone in there?"

The voice, a blend of annoyance and enthusiasm, again interrupted the young man's thoughts. Sighing, he sat up on the bunk.

"Hang on!" he yelled back.

Eric dragged his lanky figure off of the bed, muttering a curse as he knocked his head against the low ceiling. He stumbled out the door, limbs atrophied from the length of time spent with little or no movement other than the steady tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. After lurching around the cramped corridors of the ship, Eric finally exited, breathing the salty air as he walked out onto the narrow deck. Eyes the color of bright leaves glanced around wearily, taking in the night, the overcast sky, and lastly, the shapes of two college-aged boys, swimming in the water. Grasping the cold metal railing firmly, Eric walked across the deck to them, smirking.

"Are you guys insane?" he asked flatly.

"What?" asked the younger of the two innocently. "Just having a little fun while the good captain's asleep."

"Swimming in freezing water at night is many things, but I doubt fun is among them," Eric replied in the same blunt tone.

"Nah, it's not that cold," the other insisted, shaking his blonde head emphatically. "We found a warm spot."

Eric searched the deck floor until he found about six empty beer bottles, one of which was broken. Carefully he gathered them up and dumped them in the nearby trash bin, cutting his arm on a sharp edge.

"I'm sure you did."

Rolling his eyes, he reached a thin hand out to one of them.

"C'mon, let's get you out of there. This isn't the smartest idea you two have come up with."

Shrugging, the younger boy grabbed it, only to jerk the other into the murky water beside him. Gasping, Eric instinctively began to tread water, trying to keep himself afloat, even as an unknown force began to pull him down. The two boys laughed in their drunken stupor at the elder boy's joke.

"See Eric, it's not that bad-Eric? Eric!"

He was gone.

* * *

Middle Earth, Fourth Age: Five Years After the War of the Ring

Nauren walked along the beach, arms swinging gaily by her sides. She could hardly imagine her good fortune. Nearly a year ago she had come to the White City with no prospects, knowing none whom could aid her. Now she had both a steady employment and an impending wedding! She tried to contain her elation; it would hardly do for a maid in the service of Lady Eowyn to start dancing like a fool. Finally, Nauren settled for a wide smile that lit up her face, as she considered the past events that had brought her to this happy state.

She thought back to the days among her kindred, the people of Laketown in the north. Her parents ran a supplies store and were always busy attending customers, managing the accounts, and all the other tasks that went with their business, leaving her with the children. It seemed as if her whole life had been taking care of her family, her three sisters and two brothers, all younger than her. Chores day in and day out, endless laundry, and a constant lack of personal time. Then came the war, the attacks from Sauron, hiding with the other women and children as her father went off to fight. He never came back.

A brief moment of sorrow stole away at the joy on Nauren's face as she remembered that time. When the dust had settled, Laketown had been in shambles. There were wounded everywhere, those who had lost family and friends weeping as they tended them. The store had been pillaged, ransacked, all the goods either stolen or damaged beyond use. Then had come the Elves, from Mirkwood and other places. Helping those injured, singing laments to give voice to the grief, and in her case, helping with the business. Business associates of her father who had traded goods with him, now erecting a new building and replenishing their supplies. Seeing her family rise to their feet, her brothers becoming responsible, Nauren had felt the heavy burden she had always carried leave her, awaking a desire for change. She had traveled with a group of Elves coming to restore Ithilien, imagining new possibilities. Yet never could she have imagined this!

"Don't move," whispered a voice behind her.

At once a cold blade at her throat shook Nauren out of her thoughts. Behind her she could hear the heavy breathing of a man.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady even as her mind raced with panic.

"Your purse," he replied, tearing the leather pouch off her waist. "And your death."

Eyes wide, she shoved the knife away from her, then desperately ran away from the thief. Looking back, Nauren saw him advancing toward her, calmly prepared to take her life. Her only path of retreat lay in the dark sea. Yet, she had never learned to swim, having no time with which to do so. Death at the hands of a robber or death within the icy grasp of the sea. Choosing her fate, Nauren plunged into the ocean, quickly sinking beneath the tide.

_

* * *

_

Connecticut, US: 2000 A. D.

Cassy winced and turned over, exposing her back to the hot rays of the sun. Leisurely she yawned, flipping through a magazine as she sunbathed. Getting dragged out to some hick seaside town in the middle of nowhere was no excuse not to get a tan. Of course, not the proper tan she could have gotten in say . . . California or Florida, which is where Daddy was originally going to take her, before he decided to go to this godforsaken place in CONNECTICUT of all states, just because he had to work out some deals with his friends. Her face, applied with perfect make-up even out here, twisted in anger and Cassy focused on the pictures of hot guys in the magazine. It was some boring, brainy science fiction drivel, but it had some FINE photos of the Lord of the Rings movies cast members in it. She remembered seeing the Fellowship of the Ring. The movie was so boring, but who needed to worry about the plot with all those hot guys to drool over? Sighing, she was about to go off into another daydream, when suddenly a wave of sand was flung on her.

Auuughh!" She screamed, rolling over and sitting up.

All she heard in reply were sharp shrill giggles. All too familiar that sound was, and Cassy cringed as she recognized the voice of the town brat, Megan Shalcox. The little twerp had seen fit to annoy her as soon as she met her, when the teen had gone to the ice cream parlor. All she had done was make a little comment about the sheer lunacy of living so far away from civilization and then next Cassy knew, freezing ice cream was dripping down her face and all over her halter top. From then one, that little menace had been following her wherever she went, apparently intent on making her life as miserable as possible. She thought she had escaped her today, but no such luck.

Sighing, Cassy stared at her arms and legs, covered with gritty sand that seemed to cling surprisingly well to the special tanning butter she had smeared all over herself. Getting up, she decided to go for a swim to rinse off. She'd settle things with the brat later. Carefully she waded into the icy water, wincing at the chill. Once she was at a proper depth, she kicked off the bottom with her feet and began doing a breaststroke farther out. Here at least was one place that little Miss Megan couldn't follow her. Cassy was one of the best swimmers at her private school and she easily glided through the water, swimming further and further out. Finally she stopped and turned around, treading water as she looked over at the shore. It was a thin line on the edge of the horizon. How the heck did I get so far out? She had heard the lifeguard say something about the high and low tides, but didn't pay much attention; she had been too preoccupied with applying a fresh coat of Purple Prizm to her nails. Well, this is just great she thought bitterly. A nice long swim back to the beach, fighting whatever this tide thing is .

She went back into a breaststroke and began swimming, again. The odd thing was, Cassy didn't seem to be going anywhere. If anything, she was moving backwards. Well that's crazy. Why would I be- Abruptly she was jerked underwater, letting out a strangled yelp as she felt an invisible something pulling her into the deep blackness of the ocean. Her last coherent thought was wait, the ocean isn't black ...

Author's Note: Reviews are wonderful things. Coherent reviews are even better. I will have the next chapter up soon. Major thanks goes to Bella again, a great beta-reader!


	3. The other side

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. I lost the notebook that I write all my stories in and had been in a panicked search for a month before I found it. Then I spent a day typing this up, only to lose it in one fateful misclick. Evil mouse. Okay, I'll stop making excuses. Enjoy the story!   
  
LadyTremere: thank you for the review! Yeah, I have no idea what to do about the formatting problems. Whenever I upload stories they almost never show up perfectly. Oh well. Yes, Nauren is one of my favorites simply because what I can do with her character. I hope you like this chapter!  
  
Aranel: my apologies, you know all the hard procrastinating I do. ;) Thanks for the compliment! When are you going to let me post up your poetry? Anyways, here's the chapter, so you can stop glaring at me whenever we meet.  
  
Bella: oh man, thank you very much! That means a lot coming from a writer of such a terrific story. Thanks for being so understanding about the delays. Yeah, I'd like a few more reviews, but hey, I'll take what I can get.  
  
The Other Side  
  
2001 A. D.  
  
It was the silence that first woke the elf. Something felt wrong, out of place. Slowly his mind stirred, eyes opening automatically from their unnatural rest. He was lying on his back, on a thin strip of brown sand that sloped into the salty water of the ocean. Nerhuine rose into a sitting position to better observe his surroundings, a curious heaviness in his limbs making the action difficult. A dark forest bordered the narrow shore, the trees immediately drawing his attention. The odd feeling seemed to emanate from them and from the sea that where he thought he would have met his end.  
  
That musing seemed to clear the fog pervading his mind, with memories surfacing in crystal-clear flashes. Traveling to Ithilien, the sad yet joyful boarding of the ship that would lead him and his kindred to the Blessed Lands, searching, searching for...  
  
"Earel," he said.   
  
The name drove away the last of remnants of the haze. Leaping to his feet, he anxiously scanned the stretch of beach, finally resting on a slender figure collapsed on the sand a few lengths away. Running to her, he knelt down and gently lifted her into his arms. His sister's face was ashen, her soft features twisted in unconscious pain. His eyes widened in apprehension as he discovered a disturbing black mark scarring her temple, where before blood had flowed. He lightly traced his fingers over the mark, causing Earel to give a small, strangled moan. As soon as she had he drew his hand back, surprised and relieved to see her eyes opening.  
  
"Earel," he said softly. "Do not move. You're safe."  
  
She stared up at him in confusion, clutching his worn tunic.  
  
"Earel?" she whispered. "Who is that? Who are you? Why do I-"  
  
Suddenly her eyes pinched shut, teeth clenched against a sharp pain as she desperately reached for that which was lost, as the memories Earel tried to hold so tightly streamed through her mental fingers like water. The darkness choked her thoughts, the mark on her forehead growing deeper. Nerhuine watched helplessly as she fainted under the stress, her grip on him weakening until the hand fell limply by her side.  
  
***************  
  
Fourth Age, six years after the War of the Ring  
  
The stocky figure stood on the cliff, gazing at the ocean blankly. It had been only a year ago that she had disappeared, a year to this day. Taken by the waves that now crashed mockingly against the large rocks sheltered under the overhang of the cliff. The man's face was stoic, with only his brown eyes betraying a deeply personal grief. He had been standing there since sunrise and might have remained indefinitely, were it not for a certain robust voice.  
  
"Sergan! Come here! This might strike your interest!"  
  
The man now identified at Sergan jerked out of his reverie. Sighing, he began to walk leisurely down a narrow path that lead to the beach where his friend now stood. Gremith was an older man with a scholarly bent who liked to frequent the shore looking for artifacts washed up from Numenor. He was always mistaking an unusually shaped piece of driftwood for a battered section of carved desk, perhaps belonging to a noble or some other similarly fantastic notion. Although his friends humored this hobby, they soon felt compelled to remind him of the probable truth of these objects. These warnings were dutifully listened to, and then ignored by the blacksmith with a good natured smile, causing the others to shrug and allow Gremith to continue in his quest.  
  
Getting closer, Sergan's eyes widened as he saw the body on the beach. Upon seeing him arrive Gremith knelt next to it and rolled it onto it's back, revealing the figure of a young man, perhaps four and twenty years.   
  
  
  
"A little strange, eh?" Gremith remarked.  
  
"A little strange"Sergan though dryly.And Gondor's fight against the forces of Mordor was a minor battle. The man's hair appeared to be green, his skin a sickly pale hue, as if not exposed to much light. He was clean-shaven, and wearing an odd form of clothing, entirely black in color. What they assumed to be a sort of tunic was embossed with bold white lettering of some foreign tongue against a background of columns formed of glowing green characters. Sergan's eyes focused on a black mark on his right arm.  
  
"What's this?" He gestured towards the scar.  
  
Gremith shrugged and reaching out, touched it lightly. Upon the contact the youth winced.   
  
"I would think him an escaped servant under the Dark Lord's thrall, did he not look so weak so as to be a hindrance instead of a help," he replied thoughtfully.  
  
"He breathes yet," Sergan noted. "What's to be done with him?"  
  
Gremith stood up.  
  
"I've no room in my house, what with the children. Aside from that, Friyan wouldn't be pleased at the idea of taking in a stray weakling of ill-favored look."  
  
Sergan studied the young man's face for a moment, thinking. That he had appeared on the beach on the first anniversary of his loss was uncanny to say the least. He had never held with the elven superstitions about fate, but even so...  
  
"I'll take him to my house," he announced finally. At Gremith's curious look he continued, "It wouldn't rest easy on my heart to leave such a creature to fend for himself."  
  
Picking up the young man, he settled him over his shoulder and headed back to the inn.  
  
***************  
  
2000 A. D.  
  
Nauren opened her eyes. She knew that according to what the elves had told her, upon death her spirit would journey to the Outer Lands beyond Arda. It had been a belief that she had privately doubted, but held out a glimmer of hope for in spite of that doubt, especially after the encounter with the thief. Now as she gazed around in curiosity, half fearing what she might see.  
  
She lay on a sort of bed, with a piece of clear, hard material over her mouth. A coarse blanket was draped over her and someone had put a needle in her arm with a clear, thick string attached to it. Cold light shone from a small, round dome on the ceiling. There was a feeling of movement, faster that Nauren was used to, and yet lacking the jostling expected.  
  
At first she observed this from a cool, detached fog of unreality. Then suddenly waves of terror rose up from her. This wasn't right. She wasn't sure what to expect in the afterlife, but somehow this was not right! As Nauren's heart started pounding, a sound echoing it's frantic beating came from an unknown source. At this a strange man's face looked down at her, his dark face illuminated by the harsh, odd light. His skin was brown, not as the Haradrim, but a dark solid color, his hair cut closely to his head in a fashion Nauren had never seen. Upon seeing her panic he spoke some words in a comforting tone.  
  
However, Nauren's inability to understand them caused them to only increase her distress. He kept saying a particular word "ambulance" as if it was assurance of safety and another word,"okay". Nauren struggled more strongly against her hidden bonds, not realizing that is was her own weakness staying her and not some terrible power possessed by the man. After a few moments the world seemed to slip and she sank into peaceful darkness.  
  
***************  
  
Five years after the War of the Ring  
  
Cassy awoke to an assault of coughs. Deep, stinging coughs, squeezing her stomach like a vise. After the last spasm ceded, she fell back against something soft, grateful for the absence of pain. As her eyes examined the world around her, Cassy gasped shallowly. She was in a small wooden room, laying on a bed, the bedclothes stained darkly with sea water. A quick check under the covers confirmed that she was still wearing her string bikini and she pulled the top blanket up to her chin, aware of the skimpiness of her attire. This sudden modesty was brought on by the entrance of an old woman who reminded her of an aunt she had, but had never liked because she had called Cassy a spoiled brat that was ruined for life. Behind her trailed a younger girl, maybe nineteen or twenty, with a rough, pretty face. Their clothing next attracted her attention. It was like something out of the Middle Ages, skirts of some heavy fabric, a plain bodices, a white shirt of some sort under the bodices, all in drab colors. Strips of cloth bound their hair away from their faces. The old woman walked over to tend a smoky fire in a fireplace, then walked over to see the girl herself.  
  
"Excuse me," Cassy said. "Could you please clue me in to where I am? And what's with the whole rustic motif? I didn't know there were Amish in Connecticut.  
  
They looked confused and the girl replied in a weird language. After a moment the older woman left the room, giving the maiden a stern glance. Cassy sighed.  
  
"Look, I don't speak German or whatever it is you're talking in. Do you have a translator? Speak English?"  
  
The girl looked frankly spooked at this and opened her mouth to answer, but closed it at an exclamation from the old woman from outside the door. She carefully placed a bowl of steaming liquid on a table next to the bed and hurried out of the room.  
  
"Well that was real polite," Cassy commented sarcastically.  
  
After some inspecting of the bowl, Cassy guessed it was some kind of soup. However, she couldn't be sure and it was safer not to try it, she wasn't hungry anyway. She just wanted sleep, some nice cozy sleep. Her eyelids slowly shut as she cuddle deeper under the blankets.  
  
____________  
  
Author's note: reviews are still lovely things! 


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